• My eyes are dry having used all the tears
    but the tears of my heart continue to cry,
    warm droplets frozen by the icy wind
    from the cold hearts of others.

    Jagged shards of ice dripping from my weeping heart
    tearing, shredding, gouging, wounding,
    trying to disfigure and make grotesque
    the love in my heart.

    My heart grows old and weary of the pain
    offering love only to be rejected again
    rebuked in the worst possible ways
    lied to, cheated on, closed heart
    and mind, used, just refused.

    Outside my heart is scarred
    and strewn like craters of the moon
    but inside there is a garden of flowers
    fed by the spring of warm tears
    as they flow to face the cold hearts

    Though the flower garden
    is old and not as bright
    the blossoms are still full of love
    waiting apprehensively, expectantly,
    to merge with the garden of another.

    Outside the icy winds blow,
    the tears of my heart painfully freeze,
    eternally awaiting a warm heart
    to change them to water again.